Golden Blood Ep 9 Eng Sub Mga Nobela at Kwento

“You can. You must. Or she will die.” I stepped forward, trembling, and lowered my hands toward the maid’s chest. The moment I touched her, the world erupted. Gold spilled from my palms, warm, brilliant, brighter than the sun and yet soft, like honey dripping through the cracks of the stone floor. The wound closed, skin knitting back together. The maid gasped, eyes fluttering open, life surging back into her body. Silence fell, thick and heavy. Even the wolves lifted their heads, as their ears started twitching. None of them could even lift up their heads to look at Selena as she walked pass them.

Long Chen’s blood had also truly turned golden; normally, he could conceal it, but this time, his golden blood was truly impossible to hide anymore. “Wait for me!”

It was a resonance that shook the obsidian floor. I stepped toward the podium. The Judges moved to intercept me, their silver hands reaching for my throat, but they couldn't touch me. A barrier of liquid gold-mercury erupted from my skin, a frequency so high it shattered the silver masks of the Judges as they neared. They recoiled, their "Order" screaming in feedback as they dissolved back into puddles of useless liquid. "The Gold-Void..." Elena’s synthesized voice cracked. "It’s impossible. The 002 cannot generate its own source!"

Second scene: Melora alone in her room. She muttered to her reflection, "More tears. You have to make them ache for you." Then, a cruel smile. "Stupid, stupid Kressa. Everything you had is mine now." Third scene: Melora sneaking gold from the temple. Giving it to the Harpy through a secret tunnel. "Mom, here's the money for this month." She smiled greedily. "Once I take over the temple completely, I'll give you more." Scene after scene played. Every frame exposed Melora's true face.

“So we fixed it by accident.” “By instinct,” I countered. “It’s different.” “Is it, really?” he said, almost smiling. Zevran hadn’t spoken this whole time. Now he stepped in, and his face looked changed. Not guilty, not careful, lighter, almost clean. “The gold light,” he said. “It’s still falling, isn’t it?” I glanced up. He was right. The gold kept drifting down, slower but steady, heading for its people wherever they were.

But the way people moved aside for him, the way even the other alphas stepped back, told me everything I needed to know. This was someone powerful. "Ten gold from the hooded bidder," the trader said, his voice suddenly nervous. Garrett's scarred face went dark. "Twelve." "Twenty." The hooded man didn't hesitate. Gasps ran through the crowd. Twenty gold pieces could buy a house. A farm. A whole herd of cattle. Garrett looked like he wanted to rip someone's throat out. His hand went to the knife at his belt. "Twenty-five." "Fifty."

“Did you see the silver light, boy?” “Everyone saw it.” The memory hurt. Sera kneeling there, her power pouring out of her like a broken dam. Her eyes had been pure silver. Not the primal wolf-gold she used to have, not human. Something ancient, terrifying, and beautiful. Too weak. I had called her too weak. The Moon Goddess must have been laughing. “Do you know what it means?” Corvus asked. “You said something during the ceremony about bloodlines. About things that should have stayed hidden.”

He barked an order for someone to open my woven sack. Ignoring my resistance, the redhead sneered and yanked it open. Inside, a blinding flash of gold came into view. "Holy moly! That's a lot of gold!" "I thought Jeremy was broke. Is this what it means to be 'broke' nowadays?" "If that's the case, I want to be 'broke' too." "Looking at Jeremy now, he's actually got presence. He's nothing like the miner Kayleigh described." Hearing the praise directed at me, Kayleigh's complexion shifted between pale and flushed. Her eyes locked onto the gold as she stammered, "Jeremy, you… Where did you get… this much gold?"

“You’re late.” “I was exactly on time,” Daniel said. “Noon is late. Eleven-fifty is on time.” She went away. Eleanor wrapped both hands around the mug. The coffee was, in fact, not burnt. It was very good — dark and clean, no theatrics. She said so. “Marlene roasts her own,” Daniel said. “She’d die before she’d tell you that, though. She doesn’t want the compliment.” “What does she want?” He thought about it. “For people to come back.”